


𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨 🁡 𝐺𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝐸𝑔𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐻𝑎𝑚

by Adrenalineshots, sonshineandshowers, TheFibreWitch



Series: Domino 🁡 [41]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Case Fic, Digital Art, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hallucinations, Harassment, Health Emergency, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Manipulation, Mental Health Issues, Metafiction, Murder Mystery, Nightmares, Surrealism, Teenage Bright, Trauma, Unreliable Narrator, Video, a lot of really strange stuff that happens in altered states of consciousness, anxiousness, reader-driven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:39:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26505286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adrenalineshots/pseuds/Adrenalineshots, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonshineandshowers/pseuds/sonshineandshowers, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFibreWitch/pseuds/TheFibreWitch
Summary: Selecting 𝐺𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝐸𝑔𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐻𝑎𝑚 from the bookshelf, Malcolm travels through his own mind.Read this story at:https://www.thedominostory.com/#green-eggs-and-hamThis book is one part of the Domino series. If you have not yet read thePrefaceorIntroduction, please head there first.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Jackie Arroyo
Series: Domino 🁡 [41]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1926451
Collections: Domino 🁡, Prodigal Son Big Bang 2020 - Saturday Posts





	𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨 🁡 𝐺𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝐸𝑔𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐻𝑎𝑚

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jameena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jameena/gifts), [MissScorp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissScorp/gifts), [ProcrastinatingSab](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProcrastinatingSab/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Green Eggs and Ham](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/685396) by Dr. Seuss. 



> This book is one part of the Domino series. If you have not yet read the [Preface](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497927/chapters/64577434#workskin) or [Introduction](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497927/chapters/64588537#workskin), please head there first.
> 
> Betaed by the wonderful [Jameena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jameena/), [MissScorp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissScorp/), and [ProcrastinatingSab](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProcrastinatingSab/).
> 
> Credit to the creators and their works that inspired and were referenced in this work:  
>  **— Inspiration:**[Green Eggs and Ham](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Green_Eggs_and_Ham) \- Dr. Seuss  
>  **— Cover Song:**[Two Peas in a Pod](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TZAag8hMdkw) \- Grey Gardens Cast

[](https://www.thedominostory.com/images/full/green-eggs-and-ham.jpg) |   
---|---  
  
“I do not like green peas and ham,” Dr. Whitly says, corralling two peas onto his spork.

Malcolm’s eyebrows fork. “Excuse me?”

“Bright, you might like peas with lamb.”

Malcolm is fairly certain the hospital has changed Dr. Whitly’s medication. Or maybe his own meds changed? Did he take the wrong dosage? Dr. Whitly has never acknowledged him as Bright his entire life.

“I do not like them in this box. I do not like them throwing rocks. I do not like them in this nook. I do not like them overcooked. I do not like them on my spork. _I do not like them next to pork!_ ” Dr. Whitly yells, and Mr. David looks over at him in scorn.

“This vegan thing has made him angry,” Mr. David says.

“He was angry long before dropping meat,” Malcolm replies.

“Would you like them in this cell?” Dr. Whitly’s eyes narrow on Malcolm’s. “A day in here would do you well. Not in the dark! No place to sleep!” Dr. Whitly mocks. “My boy, you’re entirely much too weak!”

Malcolm sits a little stiffer, puffs his chest wide, but even sitting, Dr. Whitly’s still a head taller, dead inside.

Picking up his spork between finger and thumb, Malcolm takes a piece of his own pre-cut meat. “I do not mind green peas and ham,” he says, chewing on the bite.

“Look at you, on the lam,” Dr. Whitly sing-songs, continuing to eat two peas at a time.

“I do not mind them in this box.” Malcolm gestures at the cell around them.

“That’s because you’re on the side that locks.” Dr. Whitly smirks, his agitation visible underneath the twitch of his eyes.

“I do not find them overcooked.” The peas taste just like the ones Malcolm makes in his microwave from time to time. When he’s not using them for icing a bruise, and when he actually _remembers_ he needs to eat.

“There, that’s mush you overlooked.” Dr. Whitly points at Malcolm’s plate with the spork, then backs away so as not to get reprimanded.

“I do not mind them on my spork.” Malcolm shrugs, picking up a sporkful and shoveling them into his mouth. He doesn’t get why it’s so difficult for Dr. Whitly.

“You’re lucky I can’t have you forked.” Dr. Whitly cocks an eyebrow as if the statement’s mischief versus a threat. Malcolm knows the danger is all too real.

“You’re the one left in this cell.” Malcolm doesn’t have to point out that he’s the one who gets to go home at the end of this visit.

“Be gone, boy, go to hell!” Dr. Whitly makes to flip the tables, but they’re bolted to the floor for safety. Even his childish temper tantrum goes nowhere, leaving son more composed than father.

Malcolm turns his head and sees Mr. David sitting in the corner, practically eating popcorn. “This visit is over,” Malcolm announces, rising from his chair and walking toward the door.

“If you let me be, I _will_ find you. You will see,” Dr. Whitly snarls.

Malcolm strides his way out the door, leaves the monster behind, shoes tapping the floor. Fists clenched so tight his knuckles crack, each step away brings breathing back. He’s on the street and bolting free before he realizes — where’s he going?

“Gil, I’m in the Bronx,” Malcolm speaks into his phone, footsteps still driving him further away.

“Where?” Gil asks, the sound of papers shuffling in the background making it through the phone.

“I’m not sure,” Malcolm admits, the prospect of a destination having never crossed his mind. He just needed to get away — it didn’t matter where.

“Look at the street signs — tell me some names,” Gil says patiently.

Malcolm looks behind him, in front of him. “214th… 215th…”

“You’re going the wrong way. Kid, what are you doing?” Gil’s concern leaks through the phone. If they had been in the same room, Gil’s hand would be resting firmly on the back of his neck.

“I went to see Dr. Whitly,” Malcolm confesses quietly, knowing it’s not something that’s exactly welcomed on the agenda.

“Jackie’s gonna come get you. Can you go into a sandwich shop, a deli?”

“Gil — “

“Stay put a few minutes so I can tell Jackie where to find you.”

Malcolm looks around him, trying to find something that matches Gil’s description. “There’s a bakery on the corner.”

“Okay, go in there. I’m gonna stay on the phone with you until she gets there.”

“Gil, I’m not a kid,” Malcolm complains, walking in the direction of the bakery anyway.

“Humor me.”

The bakery smells of sugar mixed into a variety of sugary confections. There’s a dozen different kinds of colorful cupcakes with icing swirled on the top and sprinkles dusted over them. It only takes a moment for him to pick out two, pay, and find a seat in the corner to dig in while he waits.

Gil tells him about his latest case, the murdery details obfuscated. Malcolm would normally call him on it, get him to reveal more than he first offered, but he’s already done something questionable that day to disappoint Gil — he doesn’t need to add another. Whining to get him to share exactly what type of murder weapon is probably ill-advised.

Malcolm has his face buried in a second cupcake when Jackie strides through the door and to his side. “Are you alright?” she asks, her eyes looking over his whole body like she’ll x-ray hidden damage.

“Bye, Gil,” he says into the phone and returns it to his pocket. Then he responds to Jackie, “Typical visit.”

“How about Gil, Jackie, I’m going to see my father?” She gives him a glare that says she’s not happy with his decision, yet he can see the relief that he’s okay on her face.

He shrugs, for amongst the sea of terrible ideas, the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. A conversation seemed a viable alternative to some of the more self-destructive things he could do.

“How is he?” she asks.

“Has a grudge with ham,” he says, quirking his lips at the ridiculousness of Dr. Whitly’s rant.

“Will add that to the list.” She wraps her arm around him. “Let’s go home?”

“Sure.”

With a call of, “Thank you!” over his shoulder to the baker behind the counter, Malcolm and Jackie leave the establishment.

— ◌◯◌ —

“Notice anything about these emails?” Dani asks, laying out sheets of paper off a flagged printed stack from the unis who have been helping them. Thankfully, they were able to get assistance, or they would still be sorting through the trove of communications. 

Smiley faces look back at JT on some, paragraphs appear on others. Some have short lines, some are dashed stream of consciousness long sentences. There’s too much text for him to read over quickly. “Do you already know, or you’re asking?”

Dani shrugs. “I have a hunch, but asking.”

JT scans the headers and contents of the emails a second time, looking for commonalities. He checks the dates, looks at the email signatures, and skims the text. “The same person didn’t send these,” he says confidently.

“Yeah. I don’t think it’s her.”

“Well, she’s been dead, so I would hope not,” JT jokes. Talking through ouija board may be commonplace, yet email beyond the grave seems a stretch too far. “Tech have any idea who this email address is registered to?”

“No word yet.”

“You’re patterning faster than NYU,” he praises. The progress she’s made with the results the unis filtered is propelling them forward faster than some of their other leads.

“We’re looking at filtered emails — they’re looking at entire books. And actually know what they’re doing,” she adds with a smile.

“You’re very good at what you’re doing.” She takes the compliment about as good as him, quietly, looking away when she doesn’t find something to say back. “What’s the next move?”

“Thanks, boss,” she teases. “Accounts Payable.”

“You want to see how A. S. Harper is getting paid.” A trail of funds going from the publisher’s pocket to an unknown recipient. Potential motive.

“Yep. Money’s gotta be going somewhere. And it’s definitely not going to a dead woman.”

A beneficiary? Next of kin?

A murderer?

He tries to think back to the last time the two of them worked alone on a case, yet comes up empty. Though they commonly work independently, they always have the boss involved in some form. This time… Gil’s distanced. They’ll gladly take the extra responsibility, yet his absence leaves a gap they can’t fill with the two of them. Much as they work to hold each other together, extra hours and coffee don’t make up for his presence missing. His expertise. His friendship.

As much as they _can_ do the job without Gil, do the job without Bright, JT doesn’t know that they want to. 

It’s a little weird being the ‘boss,’ hearing it come from Dani’s mouth, their actual boss, mentor, and friend weighing heavily on his mind. “Would you ever want this job?” he asks.

“Huh?”

“Gil’s,” he clarifies.

“I might like a team someday.” She scrunches her lips to the side, furrows her brow. “I don’t know if I’d want his spot, specifically.”

“Talk to him about it sometime. Maybe next time, you do this.” Encouragement that JT’s not sure she needs, but it can’t hurt.

“I sure as hell hope we don’t get a repeat performance of this,” she scoffs.

“You know what I mean — you can take point next time.” Maybe when there’s a briefing, or conference, or _something_ that demands Gil’s attention that doesn’t involve one of them in dire straights.

“You want that spot.”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t both prep with experience so you can get the one you want.” Cross-training makes it better all around for all of them — it’s just an extension of looking out for each other.

Dani nods. He lets the topic drift into the walls of the precinct and gets back to work.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Head back to the [Bookshelf](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497927/chapters/64588570#workskin) to pick another book. :)


End file.
